Bah, Humboldt
by penna.nomen
Summary: What if Shawn Spencer showed up during the White Collar pilot? What if Shawn and Neal had met years earlier at a zoo? "Pilar's a Humbug," Shawn said as they walked. "You mean a Humboldt?" Neal asked. "That, too. I'm pretty sure she ran away to avoid the penguins' Christmas party."


_A/N: AO3 Chocolate Box exchange gift. It starts with Neal and Shawn meeting in 2003, and the rest of the story occurs during the White Collar pilot, which aired shortly after Psych episode "Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark."_

_No penguins were harmed in the writing of this story._

**Bah, Humboldt**

**San Francisco zoo, December 2003**

"I gotta have it tomorrow."

Shawn Spencer walked to his locker, pretending he wasn't eavesdropping on Gavin's phone call. He'd had a feeling Gavin was up to something. With a name like that, he could only be the captain of the Love Boat or a sketchy character.

Gavin spun around at the sound of Shawn's footsteps. "Right. I'll be there." His flip phone closed with a snap.

Shawn stepped out of the pale blue coveralls with the zoo logo that he wore over his street clothes, and tossed them into a laundry basket. Then he took a brown jacket out of his locker. As he pulled the garment on, he noticed that Gavin took two tries to secure his own locker. "Big date?" Shawn asked.

"Huh?"

"You seem a little nervous today."

Gavin's laugh was definitely nervous. "No. Just a normal night." He glanced at the clock on the wall and looked even more nervous.

"Sweet. Chau and I are heading over to the pizza place across the street. They're supposed to have the best Hawaiian pizza on the West Coast. You can join us."

"No," Gavin said. "I've… umm… I've got an errand I need to run. Gotta… Gotta get to the dry cleaners before they close." He dashed outside.

Dry cleaners. Right. No was way were Gavin's epically wrinkled clothes dry cleaned. Shawn decided to follow him. He hadn't practiced tailing anyone in a while.

In the parking lot, someone Shawn didn't recognize was reclining against the hood of Gavin's car. About Shawn's age, he was dressed in black, with a face that belonged to a movie star. His dark hair was so perfect that Shawn was almost jealous. "Are we on schedule?" the stranger asked Gavin.

Gavin looked over his shoulder, clearly afraid someone would overhear, but Shawn was well-hidden among the trees that surrounded the parking lot. "I'll get it tonight and bring it here tomorrow."

The stranger smiled. "Good. Then let's go over the next step."

"Not here," Gavin said. He unlocked the car.

Shawn watched as they drove away. "What did you get yourself into, Gav? You're small-time. That guy's out of your league."

#

Neal Caffrey slid into the passenger seat. "I understand your sister has done this before," he said, keeping his voice low and calm. Gavin was a bundle of nerves — even worse than he'd been when they met to negotiate the trade.

"Yeah, we've both had to bend some rules to make ends meet." Gavin drove south.

"Things will be easier for both of you when I'm done," Neal promised. "If your sister delivers on your side of the deal, I'll make sure your mother gets her money back."

"Just be careful. There's this new guy who started the day before yesterday, and he's been watching me. I think he suspects something."

"Tell me about him."

"His name's Shawn Spencer. He works the same shift I do. I don't know how he got the job. It's obvious he doesn't have any experience."

The wheels in Neal's mind were turning as he listened to stories about Shawn. He sounded like a wildcard, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Neal got out of the car a few minutes later with a new spin on the con, and Gavin continued driving south to Monterey.

#

Shawn didn't pay much attention to the other guy in the employee locker room, because he had a problem. Keeping his back to the guy, he whispered, "Pilar, no! Go back!" He tried making a shooing motion, which she ignored. She ran around him, into the middle of the locker room.

Now that Shawn looked at him, he recognized the guy as the stranger from the parking lot. He looked even more impressive up close. He was standing in front of Gavin's locker, which was open even though Gavin was nowhere in sight.

Pilar chirped or squawked or whatever you called a penguin's sound.

The new guy glanced at Pilar and then grinned at Shawn. "Friend of yours?"

"She snuck out after I fed the penguins."

"Better take her back," the guy said. "She needs to be with her flock." He was all smooth and earnest and not at all flustered about being caught pilfering through Gavin's locker.

"I've been trying, but I'm gonna need a partner. If I don't hold on to her, she'll keep running away. I need somebody to open the door to the enclosure while I carry her." He reached over Pilar and extended his hand. "I'm Shawn, apprentice animal feeder."

The guy shook his hand. "Neal. I'm still learning my way around." He closed Gavin's locker. "Lead the way."

Shawn picked up Pilar, with help from Neal. It was tricky because Shawn had a container of pink cotton candy in one hand. Part of the appeal of working at a zoo was the snacks. "Pilar's a Humbug," Shawn said as they walked.

"You mean a Humboldt?" Neal asked.

"That, too. I'm pretty sure she ran away to avoid the penguins' Christmas party. I can't say I blame her. Personally, I find the white elephant exchange offensive."

"Did you ask the elephants what they think?"

Shawn decided he might like this guy. "They started yelling as soon as I brought it up. Want some cotton candy?"

Neal declined. Shawn could understand why. The cold mist had turned into rain, and the cotton candy was melting into a hard, sticky mass.

Soon they were at the entrance to the penguin's feeding area. He'd learned from experience to avoiding breathing. "How can such adorable animals smell so foul?"

"Officially they are fowls." Neal was taking shallow breaths. "Give me the keys."

"Management took them away. I'm on probation after an incident with the giraffes this morning. I can only enter an enclosure if I'm accompanied."

"I don't have keys," Neal said.

"And yet I noticed that didn't stop you from getting into Gavin's locker."

Neal met his eyes for a moment, and seemed to come to a decision. He reached into a pocket for lock picks. They looked very professional and very illegal.

"Hurry," Shawn said. "Getting light-headed here."

The door swung open and a swarm of penguins greeted them. When Shawn set Pilar among them, two more slipped outside. Neal and Shawn chased down the escaped penguins, and finally locked the door with all of the flock inside. "Isn't there supposed to be another door between the enclosure and the employee's entrance?" Neal asked as they walked toward the locker room.

Shawn nodded. "I kind of destroyed that one. The replacement should arrive tomorrow."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why haven't they fired you?"

"Funny you should mention that. I've been avoiding the personnel manager all day. I'm pretty sure I'll be toast as soon as Bianca tracks me down. So we should get whatever you wanted from Gavin's locker, and then blow this popsicle stand."

"I already got what I needed."

"Then why are we going back?"

Neal spread his hands, which were covered with dirt and sporting a few penguin feathers. "To wash up."

"No, man, we can do better than that." Shawn took off at a jog. "The VIP suite is this way."

"I thought you didn't have keys."

"They only took away the ones they knew about." Shawn swiped a card key over a sensor and a wrought-iron gate opened. It led to a dark-paneled room with five round tables surrounded by crimson velveteen chairs. "This is where they entertain major donors." He noticed the place settings at each table. "Looks like they have something planned this evening."

"Yeah, I'll be joining them."

"You're a major donor?" Shawn asked. What would a rich dude want from Gavin?

Neal chuckled. "No. I'm the entertainment. I could use a helper, if you're interested. I promise it'll be fun."

#

Gavin's stories had been accurate, and Shawn passed the test. He was smart, exuberant, and morally flexible — exactly what Neal needed to put the finishing touch on this con.

The lure of fun was all it took. "What do you need?" Shawn asked.

What Neal needed was a distraction, in the form of a performance so over the top that Lorena would forget all about Neal. "I want you to give psychic readings, while I'm doing a few magic tricks."

"Relieving people of their valuables type of magic tricks?"

Because Shawn sounded on the fence about that, Neal elaborated. "One of the guests stole something from Gavin's mom. I'm going to get it back. I could do it on my own, but it'll be easier if you shake up my target with a dramatic performance. You can do palm readings, tarot, whatever you want. Just make sure Lorena thinks her shady business practices are about to be revealed. I want her focused on that, and not on me."

A few hours later, as the guests were served pineapple upside-down cake, Neal wandered from table to table. He was dressed all in black, a man of mystery who treated each table to a different trick. Shawn, on the other hand, wore every color in the visible spectrum. What might have been green satin pajamas were covered with layers of flowing patterned scarves, strings of yellow beads, and a purple boa. If Neal had to give the look a name, he'd call it Bohemian Mardi Gras.

Neal was careful to make sure Lorena wasn't at the first or last table he visited. She was in the middle, and the trick he did for them wasn't his most dramatic. He handed them a sheet of paper with a penguin design printed on it, and told each person at the table to sign it. Then he crumpled the paper up in a ball, tossed it into the air, and caught it. When he unfolded the ball, all of the signatures were gone. Then he moved on to the last table for his grand finale.

Shawn gave an outrageous performance. At each table he asked everyone to place a watch, ring, or other piece of jewelry in the middle of the table. He kept his eyes closed as they removed the items, so he didn't know which item belonged to who unless he had an extraordinary memory based on the quick glance he got when he sat down with them. He picked up each item and "read" it — providing a jovial prediction of adventures to come in the next year, with references to zoo animals.

It was obvious that when people thought about the evening, they'd remember Shawn much more clearly than Neal. Perfect.

When Shawn was at Lorena's table, he followed his usual pattern for the first two readings. Then he picked up Lorena's bracelet and his demeanor changed. He went still and silent for a moment. Then in a deeper, trance-like voice, he said, "Darkness. Deception. All will be revealed."

Lorena and others at the table gasped.

Shawn dropped the bracelet and opened his eyes. He held on to the table and took a gasping breath. "What… What happened?" He sounded raspy, and when someone handed him a glass of water he gulped it down. "Thanks. Sorry. That hasn't happened in a long time. Where were we?" He picked up the next item and read it, carefully avoiding Lorena's bracelet.

It was such a brilliant performance that Neal was sorry they wouldn't get a chance to work together again, but the whole point of this con was to disappear.

After a final round of applause, Neal and Shawn bowed and exited, leaving the patrons to wrap up their event. "Back to the locker room?" Shawn asked, following Neal.

Nosiness wasn't an ideal trait in a partner, but it didn't come as a surprise. "Gavin's waiting."

"Time to make the exchange."

Neal raised a brow.

"You didn't take anything from his locker, but you said you got what you needed."

"Yeah, I got you. From what I'd heard, I thought you'd give a good performance tonight, and you really delivered. That was masterful. Have you run a psychic con before?"

Shawn shook his head.

"You've got the personality for it, and it's an easy way to make some quick cash."

"What are you going to do with Lorena's signature?"

Neal gave Shawn a sharp look. The guy was even smarter than Neal had realized. "Right a wrong. You wouldn't happen to know a notary, would you? That's the last piece."

"As a matter of fact, I got bored a couple of years ago and took the exam."

An hour later, Neal, Gavin, and Shawn were all at Shawn's "apartment," which appeared to be an abandoned mailbox and shipping store. Neal forged Lorena's signature onto a document, and Shawn notarized it. By the time Lorena became aware of the forgery, she wouldn't be in any position to protest. Tomorrow morning evidence of her shady business dealings would be made public, and it would take months for her to sort that out.

Gavin handed Neal another document, signed by his sister. She was a coroner in Monterey, and the document was a death certificate for Neal Caffrey. That should get the Feds off his back for a little while. He smiled at the cause of death: gored by a great white shark. What would Agent Peter Burke think of that?

#

**Airport, October 2009**

When the cab driver popped the trunk, Shawn reached in for his duffle bag.

"No!" Henry Spencer insisted. "You're still healing."

At first Shawn had enjoyed the excuse to be lazy while he recovered from a gunshot wound. Why not let his dad do all the heavy lifting while they traveled to a police consultant's conference? But overprotective Henry had gotten boring. He'd been so insistent on Shawn resting and recovering that he'd shot down every suggestion Shawn made for exploring and enjoying the city. Making Shawn attend the last day of conference lectures with him had been the last straw.

It was time to make a point. He glanced around the arrivals area, looking for a mystery to solve. Nothing caught his eye at first.

C'mon. This was New York City. Shouldn't there at least be a pickpocket at work?

Then he noticed it. One of the valets didn't match the rest. Shawn focused in on the jackets. They all wore bright yellow jackets, but one was looser than the rest, and the sleeves were a different style. Then he turned his attention the face of the imposter who took the keys to a classic convertible. That was no valet. "He's stealing the car."

"What?" Henry asked. He looked up from paying the cab driver.

Shawn ran toward the valet stand, and hopped into the backseat of the car as Neal Caffrey started the engine. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Neal turned around. "Shawn?"

Henry ran after them, slowed down by carrying the luggage. "Stop! Police!"

"The cops are after you?"

"That's my dad. Step on it."

#

Neal floored it, speeding away from the airport. He'd planned today carefully, thinking through each detail and contingency. As a con artist he knew how to adapt to situations and go with the flow, but this… This was ridiculous. "Your dad is a cop?"

"Retired. He likes to forgets that. He wants to get back in as a consultant." Shawn leaned forward. "How long have you been out of prison? No, don't answer that." He held a finger to his brow. "I sense… It's been less than a day. And you weren't released. You escaped. Sweet." He removed the finger. "What's next? Are we making a run for the border? I could totally devour some tacos right now."

"The border would be Canada, not Mexico, and no, that's not the plan." Neal didn't bother pretending that Shawn was wrong about the prison escape. The guy had a scary eye for details. "What's with the…" He mimicked the finger to eyebrow move.

"That's my thing now. I have a psychic detective agency."

Well, that made sense. "Is your dad going to be a problem?"

Shawn snorted. "He can't help himself. It's a tossup whether his first move will be to call the cops with your license plate number, or call me to demand an explanation." He reached one arm between the driver and passenger seats to reach the radio. "We need tunes." He turned it on and scanned through the stations. "No. No way. C'mon, son. Yeah." He turned up the volume for Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal."

If the cops were on the lookout for this car, then driving to Kate's apartment wasn't the best move. Neal checked the exit signs and considered his options.

#

"This takes me back." Shawn said as they walked to the penguin exhibit at the Central Park Zoo. They'd left the car behind in another borough and taken public transit. Neal's bright yellow jacket was history. Shawn had been wearing a brown leather jacket over a brown plaid flannel shirt over a brown t-shirt. He'd given the flannel shirt to Neal, who'd first complained he "wasn't a flannel guy," but then agreed that it was a good idea to try a look he wasn't known for.

"You ever work at a zoo again?" Neal asked while Shawn paused to buy a massive bag of popcorn.

"No, but I led tours at a wildlife sanctuary for a week." Shawn read a plaque describing the penguins in the Polar Circle attraction. "No Humbugs."

"Humboldts," Neal said.

"I've heard it both ways." Shawn could see Neal was getting antsy. He found a bench in a quiet area and got the story of the prison escape. "Even I think that's insane," Shawn said when Neal finished. "Why didn't you ask a friend to check on Kate?"

"In my line of work, friends aren't eager to visit you in prison, or even communicate with you. Last thing they want is their name and address on record if they send a letter."

That made Shawn feel a little guilty that he hadn't sent a letter when he'd learned Neal was in prison. "I'm sorry, man. I had no idea it was that lonely." Now came the hard part. "Is it possible you're a little obsessed with Kate?"

"Since she's been my only visitor? Possibly, but that doesn't change the fact that she's in trouble and needs help."

"Yeah, but now you're both in trouble and need help. The FBI captured you using Kate. You know they're going to stake out her apartment as soon as they realize you've escaped. Fortunately, Santa Barbara's best psychic detective is here to help." Shawn stood up dramatically, and spilled a lot of popcorn.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but how are you going to solve anything?"

"I'm not jumping from one job to another every week anymore. I've been running my own business nearly four years now." Shawn munched a handful of popcorn and decided he didn't need to mention that Gus did most of the actual business stuff. "I solve, like, one crime a week. So hear me out. You're a planner. You planned your escape thoroughly, right? You decided what to do if you couldn't make it out."

Neal nodded.

"And I make things up as I go along. The FBI doesn't know about me, and can't anticipate me. So let me take over. I'll find out what happened to Kate, get her help if she needs it. You," Shawn pointed at Neal with the nearly empty popcorn bag, "need to break back into prison."

#

**Prison Yard.**

Neal sat on the ground, leaning against a building and shielded from the view of security cameras by an overgrown bush. He was in the prison guard uniform he'd worn when he'd left the building. They would have video of him in that uniform, and it was important to maintain the illusion that he'd done nothing more than walk outside.

They'd have a record of the truck leaving the parking lot shortly after he left the building, but they wouldn't be able to prove he was the driver — especially since he'd wiped his prints from it. He'd face disciplinary action for sneaking outside. Still that wasn't as bad as the penalty for a true escape.

When a guard went off shift, Neal coughed just loud enough to be heard. There was a commotion, and he was careful to remain calm and follow all of their directions. He took a hit on his record for good behavior, and that was it. He'd soon convinced them that he hadn't escaped — or at least that they couldn't prove he'd escaped, and life returned to normal.

There was one big change, however. He started getting postcards from Shawn with updates on his search for Kate.

#

**Manhattan White Collar Division**

Another postcard. Agent Peter Burke made sure he was kept updated on all correspondence Neal Caffrey received after the escape. Peter didn't care what the prison officials said about the "escape" simply being a misunderstanding. They were motivated to keep their record clean by deciding there hadn't really been an escape, but there was no way Neal went to all that effort just to hang out in the prison yard on a sunny day.

It had been frustrating as hell to find Shawn Spencer instead of Neal at Kate's apartment. Shawn claimed to be a psychic detective looking for Kate, and said that Agent Lars Ewing would vouch for him. In the end, Ewing and Shawn's father — a retired cop with an exemplary record — ensured that Peter couldn't do more than question Shawn about Neal and then set him free.

A few days later, the first postcard arrived for Neal. It said Pilar Humboldt had been located. So far Peter hadn't gotten a match on the Pilar name, and suspected it was a pseudonym for Kate.

The next postcard said: There is Something Rotten in the state of Denmark, and Something Fowler in the FBI.

The next postcard said: Sherlock is on the case, and Irene is leading him on a chase.

And now this postcard said: The Bird's Wits are Addled. Who is the Fowl Adler?

The sender of the postcards was Burton Guster, a known associate of Shawn Spencer.

Peter's research into the messages sent him in an interesting direction. There was an Agent Fowler at the FBI, who'd received a suspicious influx of cash in the last year. Vincent Adler was on the most wanted list, and a review of his file brought a revelation: there was a news clipping of a photo of Adler with Neal in the background. Were the postcards suggesting a link between Fowler and Adler?

Normally the Office of Professional Responsibility would investigate something like that, but Fowler worked in OPR. They weren't set up to investigate themselves. Peter's boss had authorized an investigation by the White Collar team. Not surprisingly, they kept bumping into Shawn Spencer.

Peter glanced at his calendar. Neal Caffrey was due to be released from prison in about a week. He might be the key to figuring out where Vincent Adler had disappeared to. Was it insane to consider bringing Neal in as a consultant after his release? Peter suspected they'd need to try some out-of-the-box ideas to bring Adler and Fowler to justice. After all, Fowler knew their playbook inside out.

#

**Prison**

Neal wasn't surprised to hear that Agent Peter Burke planned to visit him. Those postcards from Shawn were practically screaming that Adler had a mole in the FBI. Peter would have been monitoring those messages, and he must realize that playing by the book wasn't the way to handle this situation.

With Neal and Shawn on the case, the bad guys wouldn't stand a chance.

_A/N: I took some liberties with the San Francisco zoo. It doesn't appear that they have Humbolts at this time. Perhaps that's Shawn's fault?_

_It was such fun to reference Psych and White Collar episodes. Some of the references include:_

_For Psych: Pineapples! Shawn will be toast if Bianca finds him, is based on episode title "Scary Sherry: Bianca's Toast." Agent Lars Ewing appeared in "Psy vs. Psy."_

_For White Collar: Mostly I referred to the pilot episode, with nods to the Adler/Treasure arc and Agent Fowler. In "Vested Interest" Neal and Peter discussed death certificates Neal had purchased, including one that said he'd been gored by a great white shark in Monterey._

_Thanks to my Silbrith for her always amazing beta editor skills._


End file.
